


Day Six - Knights/Royalty AU//Arranged/Fake Marriage

by elwon



Series: JayDick Week 2017 [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Escape, M/M, Medieval Marriage Customs, Peril, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 04:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12291639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elwon/pseuds/elwon
Summary: Jason had been hoping to at least be able to say hello before they’re supposed to retire to the bedchamber to ‘consummate’ the marriage. But Prince Richard seems more interested in partying with his retinue at the feast than spending any time with Jason.





	Day Six - Knights/Royalty AU//Arranged/Fake Marriage

Jason’s been married to the man for a full hour now and they’ve still not managed to speak a single word to each other. The handfasting ceremony had been short and to the point, as was the Al Ghul way, so Jason hasn’t had an opportunity to actually say anything to Prince Richard. He seems more interested in partying with his retinue at the feast than spending any time with Jason. It’s not that Jason blames him, this is a political marriage after all, and Jason’s just a knight, albeit the highest ranked of Ra’s Al Ghul’s Knights. He can’t be happy to be marrying so far below him socially, but Damian is too young to marry, and Ra’s has no other family available to marry off. Jason had been hoping to at least be able to say hello before they’re supposed to retire to the bedchamber to ‘consummate’ the marriage. But Prince Richard is talking and drinking with his servants and friends, barely even mingling with any of the people he’ll be spending the rest of his life around. 

Jason sighs and takes another sip of wine. The thin high arched windows are letting the last rays of the day’s sunshine bounce off the many mosaics on the walls and floors, giving the hall a golden dreamy glow. The dancing girls’ bells chime softly in rhythm with their movements, their accompanying band playing softly enough to talk over but loud enough to be heard in the echoing vaulted ceiling of the palace hall. He shifts on his cushion, half wishing for the chairs of his youth in Gotham, if only so he can stretch his legs without kicking the table still laden with sweets and pastries, befitting such a happy occasion as a wedding. He forces himself not to play with his napkin and glances to his left where Prince Damian is sitting, feeding his dog his scraps under the table and looking very bored and sleepy. 

Ra’s grandson is up way past his bedtime, but he’s refusing to go until the festivities are done because he’s one of the most stubborn eight year olds Jason has ever met. Damian slips forward, finally having fallen asleep and Jason catches him before he lands face first in a bowl of hummus. He pulls Damian into his arms, and the boy doesn’t stir at all. Jason nods at the guards as he slips out of the feasting hall and away to Damian’s chambers, Titus at his heels plodding away placidly. He lays Damian on his bed and grins at the grumpy looking body servant that comes in to change Damian’s clothes as he leaves and heads back to the feast. 

His timing is impeccable as he arrives back to his seat seconds before Ra’s signals for silence. Jason’s lord stands and commands the attention of all in the hall. Jason feels his heart sink. He’s not looking forward to his wedding night. Prince Richard is, of course, devastatingly handsome with bright blue eyes and ink black hair and the sort of smile that only makes him more attractive, lighting up the room and making those smiled upon feel blessed. He’s not as tall as Jason, nor as muscled, but he’s still a fine figure of a man, or at least Jason assumes so. It’s a little hard to tell under the leather jerkin, doublet and padded armour. Richard could be whipcord thin and weak, but Jason hopes not. 

“We thank you all for gathering here today. Please continue your festivities while the marriage is consummated.” Ra’s declares, stepping down from the dais and sweeping his way out of the hall. Jason takes a quick centering breath and follows him out; as long as Jason does his part tonight, he should be free to do as he pleases again tomorrow. Richard walks up next to him and Jason glances at him, hoping to catch his eye, but Richard is staring resolutely ahead. Well, this isn’t awkward at all.

They’re joined by several officials from both of their countries once they reach the Marriage Bed Chamber. Decorated much like the hall they’ve just left, the room is fully tiled and somewhat echoey; it smells faintly of lemon from the thorough cleaning it had earlier in the day, when it was wiped of the dust accumulated when a room is unused for decades. Ra’s Al Ghul is no prude, but he despises the Rite of Consummation as an unnecessary waste of time after a legally binding wedding ceremony, and so the room had been shut up since his parents’ marriage. The officials take their seats around the walls of the chamber, set up for viewing the bed itself; it’s not as large as Jason was expecting, with silken sheets and small, low tables either side to hold the outer layers of their clothes, he supposes. 

Richard strips off his outer layers of armour and padding, folding them up and placing them on the table. He’s definitely not as large as the armour suggested, but he’s no skinny twig. He has the muscles of an acrobat, lean and strong, speed and flexibility over strength and power. He stays in his shirt, breeches and boots and looking expectantly around the room. Jason takes off his outer robe and shoes, robe folded on the table and shoes tucked neatly underneath it, leaving him in his pants and undershirt, and walks over to the bed, looking over to Ra’s for permission. He receives a nod and so Jason forces the growing feeling of discomfort aside and lies down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

The Gotham official pulls out a scroll and starts reading out the legal requirements that Gotham had insisted on to secure the marriage, as if they haven’t just gone through all of that during the actual wedding. He clearly loves the sound of his own voice, slowly and deliberately reciting the agreements. Richard clambers onto the bed, straddling Jason’s thighs to sit on top of him. Richard leans over him, resting on his elbows and stretches his legs out either side of Jason’s. He feels boxed in, caged, and Jason grits his teeth against the feeling. His fingertips brush against the outsides of Richard’s thighs and he can feel the hard muscles there. His armour might have padding, but it seems that there’s none in his breeches.

Richard flashes him a smile, but it turns uncomfortable the longer the official keeps talking. It’s so awkward, being this close to someone he’s not spoken to yet, and the distance between his face and Richard’s is so small that Jason can feel the heat of his breath. He can smell the faint trace of the wine that Richard had drunk earlier. This close Jason can pick out all the shades of blue in his eyes. Jason shifts his head to the side a little, staring at the ceiling again and plotting exactly how he can get revenge on the Gothamite official for taking so long. The scent of lemon that was sprayed on the silken bedclothes earlier to freshen them starts to tickle his nose unpleasantly. The man continues droning on for at least another five minutes, and Richard drops his head to rest on Jason’s shoulder.  
“Seriously?” Richard mutters into Jason’s shoulder, annoyance obvious despite the quietness of his statement.

“The Kingdom of Gotham recognises the marriage between Prince Richard and Sir Jason as officially consummated, in accordance with articles and ordnances of the Holy State of Matrimony.” The official finally finishes reading out his scroll, rolling it up pompously. Now it’s Ra’s turn to speak and Jason flattens his hands on the bed, trying to relax against the building frustration.

“Al Ghul recognises the marriage between Prince Richard of Gotham and Sir Jason of Al Ghul as officially consummated.” Ra’s proclaims loudly. “We may now depart the bedchamber and resume festivities.” Ra’s lifts an arm, ushering the gathered onlookers out. Jason’s never felt so loyal to his lord as he has right now for keeping his speech so short. Jason clenches his fist and raises it in thanks. Ra’s throws a glance in his direction with the shadow of a smile playing about his lips. He departs and Jason and Richard are left alone for the first time.

“Well, thank god that’s over.” Richard says, rolling off Jason and onto his back. “I don’t know what was more uncomfortable, the fact Lord Elliot wouldn’t shut up or your knife sticking into me.”

“It was? I’m sorry.” Jason says, adjusting said knife on the outside of his thigh.

“It’s alright. I left mine in my boot so I can’t exactly complain.” Richard snorts, shifting more onto his side. “Now that we finally can speak... Hello, I’m Dick. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Jason. I hope I can serve your highness well.” he responds, reciting the words that he’d been told to say. “So, uh, you always wear your boots to bed?” Jason winces internally, really the first thing he could say to the man he’s going to spend the rest of his life with and it’s that?

“Well, you never know when you might have to run!” Dick says, a twinkle in his eye.

“Really?” Jason stares at him. What kind of useless bodyguards has he had, that he’s needed to run?

“No, my socks have a large hole in them and I couldn’t show that off.” Dick grins sheepishly. Jason can feel a smile creep across his face at the ridiculousness of a Prince with socks with holes in them. “I was going to get someone to fix them once we got here, but no one here wears socks. How can you not wear socks?” 

Jason snorts, the exasperation in Dick’s voice somehow funnier than the fact his socks aren’t fit for company. Dick smiles widely and Jason feels his heart skip a beat. 

*** 

It’s been a few days, and they’ve had a few light conversations since they met. The usual ‘getting to know each other talks’, likes and dislikes, hobbies and pastimes, books they’ve read and plays they’ve seen. They’ve sparred a few times in one of the inner courtyards, not fighting each other seriously, just for fun and always coming to a draw. Prince Damian referees these bouts, favouring Dick at first, and then Jason in the next fight, and back again to Dick after that. Jason suspects he’s just trying to see who’ll give him more attention, and by attention he means sweets, in a bid to win consistent favour. 

They talk about family over meals in their bedchamber, and while Jason knows most of the information already through the diplomatic negotiations prior to the wedding, it’s interesting to hear Dick’s personal views on his family and social situations. All their talks have been warm and friendly, going well until Jason makes the mistake of asking how Dick had ended up adopted by King Bruce. Dick goes still, the smile on his face dropping off and the warmth in his eyes shuttering away. Dick says nothing for a long moment before gritting out “My parents died. Bruce kindly took me in and adopted me after a few years.” Jason waits for Dick to say more, and the frozen silence that descends only lifts when Jason changes the subject completely.

A few hours later, their burgeoning friendship seemingly back on track after a slow walk around the vast walled garden of the palace, viewing the lush flowers, shrubs and trees that surround a maze of private lawns and small but heavily hedged fruit orchards. They even take the time to solve the actual hedge maze Ra’s set up for the entertainment of his daughters, Dick laughing as he gets caught in more dead ends than Jason remembers the maze even having. The smile on Dick’s face when they finally reach the centre is worth the frustration he felt every time that Dick had told him that he would solve it without Jason’s help.  
Afterwards, they sit on the private veranda of their room, taking in the sunset over the manmade lake in the distance, with wine and fruit on a platter in front of them, enjoying the cool breeze that ruffles their hair gently. 

“So how did someone from Gotham end up as one of Ra’s elite knights? I noticed the accent when you spoke to Lord Elliot yesterday.” Dick says lightly, gaze on Jason’s face as he sits back on the divan, bunch of grapes in hand as he pops one in his mouth and chews silently. “Were your parents part of his court?” It takes Jason a few moments to even remember them, given that it feels like lifetimes since he lost them.

“No. We were travelling from Gotham to somewhere... I don’t really remember. I was nine or ten. There was a fierce storm and we were driven on to rocks. As far as I know, I was the sole survivor of the shipwreck.” Jason takes a sip of his wine, staring out over the lake and narrowing his eyes at the reflected glare. “Lady Talia found me on the beach sometime afterwards on her usual morning ride. I’m still not sure why she decided to take me in, an orphan boy from a foreign country; it was considered a scandal among some of the nobility. But Lord Ra’s himself gave his blessing, so that was that. Once I was old enough, I realised the best way I could thank her was to become a knight and protect her and our family as well as I could.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories.” Dick looks genuinely apologetic, reaching out to place his hand on Jason’s in sympathy.

“You didn’t. It was a long time ago, and any sorrow is far past. I have a place here, a purpose, even a family in a way.” Jason smiles, twisting his hand over to gently fold his fingers over Dick’s. “Losing them was hard, but it made me who I am now. And I’ve no complaints.” Dick smiles back, but there’s a look in his eyes that makes Jason think that Dick doesn’t believe him. It’s most likely to do with how shut off Dick became when Jason asked about his parents. He’ll have to investigate that a bit more in the future, but for now he can let it go and just enjoy the summer sunset.

***

Dick’s still wearing his Gothamite clothes and obviously suffering for it, thanks to the stiflingly humid heat of summer. Jason watches him struggle to pull on the thick, heavy doublet with blatant amusement. Dick catches him grinning and scowls, but even that face looks pretty to Jason. Eventually Dick gives up and sits on the bed staring at his jacket hopelessly. Jason walks over to the closet and pulls out a loose pair of trousers and the traditional long shirt and throws them over to Dick.

“Put those on. You’ll feel better for it.” He says, still grinning. Dick scowls harder for a moment before he relents and pulls off the shirt he had been wearing, before standing and peeling off the tight breeches. Jason blinks and tries to fight off a blush at the thought of Dick half naked and so close to his bed.

“Alright, I can be the bigger man and admit these clothes are better for this weather.” Dick says, pulling Jason out of his not quite fantasies. 

“Yeah, it’s almost like the locals are on to something, isn’t it?” Jason smirks. He gets the discarded shirt thrown in his face for that particular comment. “I deserved that.”

“Yes, you did. Now come on, Damian wanted to spar with me before breakfast and I want to get there first and pick my weapon.” Dick grabs Jason’s wrist and drag him to the door. “And as my husband, I expect you to cheer me on.” 

“I suppose I should do my husbandly duty, and do just that then.” Jason huffs in amusement. “But maybe you want to put some shoes on first?” Dick looks down at his bare feet and gives a cry of annoyance, stalking back into the room to find a pair of shoes. Jason leans against the wall and openly admires Dick’s behind as he bends down to the bottom of the wardrobe to find what he’s looking for. Husbandly duty really should come with _some_ perks after all. 

***

Dick’s just finished kick flipping off the courtyard wall when Jason hears the first distant yell. It’s followed by a faint clanging of swords. Jason frowns, the noise isn’t coming from the larger training grounds that the guards use, it’s coming from inside the audience hall. He looks over to where Dick and Damian are sparring, both seemingly oblivious to the disturbance. Damian kicks sand in Dick’s direction, hitting him solidly in the middle of his shirt and laughing at the put out look that spreads across Dick’s face. 

Jason stands up, gripping the handles of his swords and pulling them out of their scabbards. Damian halts his run at Dick, staring at Jason as he moves from the wall to the centre of the courtyard. There’s the thudding of feet along the corridor, before several people spill out, fighting hard as their blades clash, blood spraying on the sand as the intruders cut down the palace guards. Jason moves in a whirlwind, cutting down his enemies as fast as they come, slashing and stabbing with both of his swords. 

He turns in the lull between waves of assailants to check on Damian and Dick. Dick’s got Damian behind him, holding out his sword in defence, although thankfully at this point it’s still clean of blood. 

“Jason, we have to get out of here.” Dick hisses. “Where do we go? Where’s safe?” Dick keeps his shield arm out, holding Damian to the wall while his eyes are wild and searching the rooftops for enemies. 

“This way. If they’ve got this deep into the palace, then nowhere’s safe. We need to go. Now.” Jason jerks his head to the side as he heads for the secret passage in the courtyard, the one hidden behind a screen. It won’t fool whoever’s after them for long, but it’ll have to do. Dick and Damian follow him without comment, the screen quietly shutting behind them just as the distinctive thud of arrows echoes from the courtyard floor.

The passage is cool and dark, and Jason can only hope that they can get to the other end without trouble. It’s an unbelievably tense few minutes as they creep along, Jason holding his swords out in front of him, ready to pierce anyone foolish enough to get in front of him. Eventually they emerge near the stables, and Jason curses as the chaos has reached there too. He’s caught in a dilemma; he needs his hands free to get Dick and Damian onto horses and hopefully out of the battle zone, but he also needs his swords to defend them. He compromises by sheathing one of them and keeping the other. Dick still has his sword, and while it’s a blunt practice one, he can still use it if it comes down to it.

Somehow they manage to avoid being drawn into any scuffles as they make their way into the stables, but the fighting is intensifying outside and Jason wants them out of there _now_. He grabs a cloak and throws it in Dick’s direction. He grabs another and fastens it around Damian’s shoulders. He looks around for a decent horse, and sees out of the corner of his eye Damian pull another cloak into his arms and bundle it up. Damian works quickly and quietly, and Jason is glad that he’d spent weeks drilling Damian on exactly what to do should they ever need to evacuate quickly.

Jason saddles up a big gelding that looks strong enough to carry both Damian and himself, and he’s about to tell Dick to find himself a horse when he looks over and Dick’s doing exactly that. He’s saddled a mare, and swung himself up into the seat, reins in hand, in the time it’s taken for Jason to get the saddle and bit into the gelding’s mouth and back. Jason passes his sword to Damian to hold while he swings into his own saddle and the boy takes it silently, staring up at him with big green eyes.

He takes the sword back, leaning down an arm to pull Damian up into the saddle in front of him, and gees the horse into moving. The horse’s not too happy about walking into a fight, not that Jason can blame him. The stable door gets wrenched wide open by a big man, armed with an axe and a manic gleam of bloodlust in his eyes. Jason charges his horse at him and he dodges out of the way, right into the path of Dick’s mare. He’s trampled under her hooves as they burst out of the stable.

It’s carnage that greets them as they ride out of the gates as fast as they can. They stop for nothing as they leave the palace grounds. The city is faring no better than the palace is. There are fires everywhere the enemies aren’t, and the dead are being left to lie where they have fallen. It takes everything Jason has not to turn around and help the people of the city, but he knows his duty, and it’s to get Damian out of there unharmed. 

He doesn’t have time to think as they gallop through the maze of streets to the city gates, no time to wonder how they’ve been invaded so fast and overwhelmingly. He doesn’t have time to do anything other than react to his surroundings, slashing wildly at assailants who jump at them from rooftops, kicking at those who run at them on the ground. He barely has enough thought to check on Dick every so often. 

Dick’s managing to keep up with them, at least, still swinging that practice sword at anyone who dares to come near him. His mare rears up and tramples a few more unfortunate souls, but Dick seems like a good enough horseman that Jason doesn’t worry about losing him. 

The city gates come up before them, doors thrown wide open and unattended. Jason curses again; the invaders have clearly completely overthrown Ra’s forces already. It’s mind boggling how they had no idea that anyone was planning this. How had their spies not known? They dash through the unguarded gates, and Jason veers away from the well worn road as soon as he can. They crash through the arid landscape until the ground softens into sandy hills, and then again into the dunes of the desert proper. 

They’ve been riding for at least half an hour when they draw to a stop, looking back over the sand dunes to the city they’ve just escaped from by the skin of their teeth.

“Who... who were they?” Dick grits out between his teeth, anger sparking off him in waves. He looks as angry as Jason feels.

“Nyssa. It was Nyssa, wasn’t it? I recognised the sigil on her soldiers.” Damian says, voice small as he stares back at the palace, now in ruins and well on its way to being reduced to rubble by the flames burning bright. Thick black smoke cuts across the sky, reaching its way heavenward as if to carry the souls of the dead up with it. 

“Yeah, it was. If not Nyssa herself, then certainly her followers.” Jason pulls his arm tighter around Damian. He’s got him away from the reaches of his aunt for now, but Jason’s not sure how long that’ll last.

“I thought Lady Nyssa was dead?” Dick says, confusion warring with the anger on his face.

“We thought so. We hoped so. After that last attempted coup, the possibility that she could have survived was... We thought it was impossible. Maybe not so much, I guess.” Jason sighs, wiping a hand over his face and through his hair.

“From the look on your face, I’m guessing there’s no way we can go back, is there?” Dick tightens his grip on his reins, his horse stepping back in response.

“No. Damian’s the only male heir. She’ll have to kill him to secure her rule.” Jason shakes his head as Damian burrows a little tighter into his arms. “We’ll have to go somewhere else. Somewhere we can guarantee Damian’s safety.” There’s a long pause before Dick speaks again.

“Safe... You mean Gotham, don’t you?” Dick fixes his gaze on Jason, and Jason nods. “And how do we get to Gotham from here? The closest port is on the other side of the city, and we can’t go back there...”

“I know. We’ll have to take the longer route.” Jason turns his horse to face the sandy dunes of the desert.

“Longer route?” Dick walks his horse over, closer to Jason’s. “How long will that take?”

“Two weeks if we’re lucky.” Jason takes stock of what provisions they have. Given that they have three swords between them and maybe four daggers and the clothes on their backs, it’s not looking good. “We’re going to need water.”

“If we’re not lucky. What happens then?” Dick looks like he’s forcing himself to ask. Jason can’t blame him for not wanting to know the answer.  
“We’re dead. Either from Nyssa’s forces or thirst.” Jason shrugs. “Most likely thirst.”

“Oh, so... nothing we can’t handle then.” Dick attempts a smile, but it wobbles the longer Jason looks at him. Dick urges his horse to walk on and Jason follows, pulling up alongside him.

“It’ll be over in no time.” Jason says. He’s not sure if he means the journey or their deaths. He tries not to dwell on it. Right now he needs to focus on getting them water if they want to survive the night.

***

After a couple of hours, Dick’s mare begins to fight his control, and they make the decision to let her run back to the city. Jason slides off his own horse, keeping the reins in hand and Dick takes his place, arms held loose around and exhausted Damian as the boy fitfully sleeps. Jason knows there’s an oasis not too far away, but he’s only ever gone there by camel before. The camels walk that route so often they can walk themselves; Jason just hopes that he’s still on the right path.  
The sun’s just starting to drop in the sky, relenting a little from the harshness of midday. Jason wipes his face on his sleeve, avoiding the bloodstained patches that he hadn’t noticed earlier. He slips in the sand, jerking the horse to a stop unexpectedly.

“What happened? I’m awake!” Dick blurts, clearly woken from a light doze in the saddle. “Where are we?”

“Nothing. Slipped is all.” Jason says, straightening up and patting the horse on the head in apology. The horse eyes him back unfavourably. “Still in the middle of nowhere. Should make the oasis soon.”

“Oh good. ...Do you want to swap? I don’t mind walking for a while.” Dick offers and Jason squints up at him. The sun is positioned right behind his head and the light is haloed around him. He looks beautiful limned in the bright golden sunshine and Jason feels his breath catch in his throat. 

“No, you’re alright. With any luck the oasis is just over the other side of that dune.” Jason hopes it is. “If we’re really lucky, there’ll even be a caravan there and we can get passage with them...” Although how they’ll manage that with no money, Jason has no idea.

“Well, I’m known for my good luck.” Dick grins at him with a gleam in his eye that Jason thinks means trouble.

“I have never heard that, and Lord Ra’s had an extensive file on you.” Jason scoffs, but it only increases Dick’s grin.

“I married _you_ , didn’t I? So clearly I have excellent luck.” Dick blows him a kiss and Jason’s glad the heat of the desert has made his face so red. It’s hiding the blush that kiss causes.

“I think the sun has addled your mind, Prince Richard.” Jason says, turning away and leading the horse on.

“Oh no, I was born like this. Ask anyone.” Dick says. So he’s not only sun addled, but the type that always has to get the last word too, apparently. 

They trudge slowly over the dune and Jason nearly falls to his knees in relief when they reach the crest of the hill. The oasis is in front of them, sunlight glinting in reflection off of the water, a palm tree or two scattered around the edge of the pool and grass spreading around the area. Jason’s dry throat clicks painfully and he breathes a little harder knowing that his parched throat will be soothed soon. And as it turns out, Dick doesn’t have excellent luck, it’s exceptional, as there _is_ a caravan parked close to the oasis. Dick whoops in joy, waking Damian up as they race as fast as they can to the water’s edge, which honestly, is really slowly compared to this morning.

When they finally reach the water the three of them fall nearly face first into it. The horse is much more sedate, but no less thirsty. Jason forces himself to cup the water with his hands and sip at it slowly, rather than Damian’s method of shoving his entire head under the water and gulping it down. Jason’s not looking forward to later when the boy complains of a stomach ache, but he lets Damian enjoy it while he can. He’s lost enough today, that a little indulgence seems his due.

They take a few minutes to recover and then Dick’s springing off, striding over to the caravan as if he’s had a full hours rest instead of mere moments. Jason stares after him in disbelief. Dick finds his way to the caravan’s leader, all smiles and removing his cloak as he seems to enter into negotiations for their passage. Jason wants to go over there and ensure that Dick’s not promising anything they can’t deliver, but he can’t make himself stand up, so all he can do is check over Damian. He’s staring out over the water, a dark look on his face, lost in thought. Jason reaches out to him and pulls him under his arm. Damian doesn’t even give a protesting struggle and Jason tries again not to think of all they’ve lost today. Dick ambles back over to them, and Jason blinks at how fast his talk seems to have gone. 

“The good news is the caravan’s agreed to take us out of the desert.” Dick says, dropping down to sit cross-legged in the short grass, cloak in hand. “The less good news is that we’ll have to work for it.”

“Was expecting that.” Jason nods, and waits for Dick to elaborate.

“They want the horse and you’ll be working as a guard. You know, since you have practice at it.” Dick smiles quickly at Jason’s agreeing nod. “I’ll be dancing for them at night. Don’t argue with me, I’m doing it.” Dick finishes, narrowing his eyes at Jason. 

“As my Prince commands.” Jason snorts, as if he’s going to argue getting to see Dick dance. He’s looking forward to it. Dick blinks, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“Excellent luck. I told you.” Dick whispers, leaning in to kiss Jason full on the mouth. It’s their first kiss, and even with chapped lips and the lethargy from travelling the desert, it sends sparks of fire all across Jason’s body. He wraps his free arm around Dick, pulling him in closer. Dick’s added weight leaning into him tilts them over and they end up sprawling in the grass. Damian makes a noise of disgruntled complaint, but stays tucked into Jason. Dick pulls back enough for their gazes to meet. Jason feels like he’s drowning in those blue eyes. 

“So... does this mean I get to do my husbandly duty tonight?” Jason whispers back.

Damian’s squawk of total disgust drowns out Dick’s response, but to Jason his smile is like the summer sun emerging from behind clouds.


End file.
